Capability Smith and the Pirate Queen of Venus
by Older than Dirt
Summary: Another tale of our favorate bard wandering the worlds. Is that a rumor of Scro treasure? [Spelljammer]
1. Prelude

Author's note: a crwth (also called a cruth or a crowd, and pronounced crooth) is a type of stringed musical instrument.

**

* * *

Capability Smith and the Pirate Queen of Venus**

**Chapter 1 **

Capability Evelyn Thunder-Smith walked down a bustling, sweaty street near Pahara's center, the smell of the sea in his nostrils and the sweet jangling of the crwth on his back in his ears. Cap was in no particular hurry, strolling slowly down one side of the street, examining the good for sale in the windows of the shops, and pausing occasionally to enjoy a magically-cooled breeze coming from one of the more expensive shops. Around him the commerce of Pahara seethed and boiled, the pursuit of wealth that was the city's entire reason for existence and practically its religion, going at full blast despite the ungodly heat and humidity.

Cap walked onto a brilliant turquoise bridge suspended over one of the city's numberless canals by spell and cables and stopped at the middle to pour a few drops of wine onto the alter of the small shrine to Poseidon, such as was found on every bridge in the city. He lounged for a moment, watching the traffic below in the water as the mermen and tritons who were as much a part of Pahara's life as any surface dweller passed underneath. Then he carefully adjusting the angle of his plumed hat and sauntered on his way.

Once on the other side of the canal, he began counting houses. The fifth house on the left -- just before a small temple to Isis -- has a small shop in front with a tiny sign reading "Mahoon's Magical Oddities, Curiosities, Books of all Kinds and Confectionary Shoppe". Cap blinked. _Confectionary shop_? But after a moment's thought he shrugged and opened the door.

The shop inside was small, neat and clean, if dimly lit. The wall to left was covered by unmarked wooden cabinets. The wall to the right was entirely covered by nine-foot tall wooden bookshelves, completely filled with books. The back of the shop contained a large glass case full of all kinds of sweets, from local seaweed candies to expensive imported chocolates. Behind the glass counter was a tall, elderly man with white hair and slightly pointed ears.

The shopkeeper frowned at Cap over a pair of half-spectacles. "Yes, may I help you?"

Cap raised his eyebrows slightly. The man did not seem particularly friendly for someone in trade. "Master Mahoon? I have an enchanted musical instrument I'd like examined."

Master Mahoon gave Cap a careful look, and nodded quickly. His frown eased, even if it did not vanish. "Let's see it, then."

Cap pulled the leather instrument case from off his back and laid it carefully on the counter. Opening it up, he gently pulled the crwth free and handed it to the old man.

Mahoon examined the musical instrument carefully from all sides, then laid it carefully by down on the counter. He strode to the shop's door, locked it and placed a closed sign in front of the door's glass panel. Then he walked briskly to one of the cabinets that lined one wall of the shop, and muttered a quick phrase. A door swung open, and he pulled out a large sheet of parchment, several pieces of curious-looking blue chalk, and four golden candlesticks out. Setting all of this down on the glass counter, he asked Cap: "What do you know about this instrument?"

Cap shrugged. "Well, it's magic. And it's a crwth – a sort of bowed lyre you find in use in Wales and in some of the British backcountry. They haven't been in style for centuries. Other than that, nothing. I haven't been able to determine where it was made or by whom. I'm not even sure what kind of woods it's made from."

Mahoon laughed quietly. "They _are_ exotic woods, but as it happens, the wood used for the back, sides and neck came from a grove fifty miles inland from here. That's blond lionwood, and it only comes from that one particular grove in the jungles of Alph. And I believe that the soundboard is made of blood cardioc, another tree only found on Alph. This tells us at the very least that maker of this instrument had access to best materials grown on Venus and was willing to pay the cost. The workmanship tells us that he or she was a master."

Cap raised one eyebrow. "So, an expensive instrument? I only paid a handful of gold for it at a pawn shop."

Mahoon looked thoughtful. "A pawn shop? Interesting … I wonder. Well, as far as price goes, it would be at least moderately expensive. Now, to determine if it is _really_ expensive we will have to see what, if any, enchantments have been placed upon it. That is, in addition to the obvious ones to protect it from the humidity and to keep it in tune."

Cap blinked. "Those are obvious?"

Mahoon shrugged again. "To an expert. Or someone who noticed that they only had to tune it once."

Cap mumbled something incoherent to the effect of course he had noticed … he just hadn't thought about it much.

Master Mahoon laid down the large piece of parchment on top of the glass case full of sweets, and carefully placed the crwth on top of it. He then busied himself for several minutes surrounding the instrument with arcane marks in blue chalk. Next, he placed the four golden candlesticks in a diamond around the instrument, and lit the scented beeswax candles they contained. Nodding in satisfaction, he bent down and withdrew a short staff, made of black wood bound with rings of gold, silver and copper, out from a hidden compartment under the sweets case. Raising the staff high, he shouted three, sudden, echoing words.

The crwth began to glow, then slowly rose into air until it hovered a foot above the parchment. Master Mahoon cried out another word, and suddenly blue glowing arcane symbols filled the air around the musical instrument. Nodded to himself in satisfaction, Mahoon spoke a different word, and green words in elvish were added to floating symbols. Smiling slightly now, Mahoon spoke a third word, and red draconic letters were added to the display surrounding the crwth. Mahoon and Cap studied the glowing letters for several minutes, until Mahoon nodded one more time and spoke a final word. The glowing symbols and letters blinked out, and the crwth lowered itself slowly back on to the parchment.

Cap looked at Master Mahoon expectantly. "Well, it's clearly magical -- I caught that much. I saw protective spells, some sort of spell-casting ability and something else, something strange and complicated. What did you see?"

Mahoon gave Cap a pleased look. "You have not entirely neglected your magical studies, I see. Yes, it has protective spells: in addition to the tuning and humidity protection, there is a spell against breakage. You could use it as a club without hurting it, I suspect. As for spellcasting, I will have to work out the details a bit more, but it looks to me like it is capable of converting some of your barding music ability into a casting of the _Resonating Bolt_ sonic attack spell, which can be moderately useful. As for the third part . . ."

Master Mahoon paused thoughtfully. "The third part of the enchantment _is_ unusual, and yes, complicated. I've only seen it a few times before in all my years. It is sometimes called a treasure compass. It's a way a leaving a guide to where someone hid something. With the right command action -- in this case the right song played on this crwth -- it will indicate a direction to, and the distance from, the hiding place."

Cap smiled. "Well, well, well, well! Now _that_ is interesting. Do you know what the song is, and can you tell what it will lead to?"

Master Mahoon shrugged slightly. "I think we can determine the spell with some work and research. As for what it leads to, I have no idea and no real interest. _That_, my dear bard, is your business. Now, on to the interesting part! Let us begin our research."

* * *

To be continued ... 


	2. The bonny ship the Stormbreaker

**Chapter 2**

Cap stood on Pahara's great wall, lounging in the shade of a lookout tower and enjoying the breeze off of the Sea of Monsters. Below him he could see the stone golems endlessly toiling above and below the water to maintain the enormous wall. Behind him stood several of the iron golems that defended the walls against monsters and invaders alike. A random assortment of visitors and natives lounged with him -- it was a popular spot. There was even a cart selling lemon ices near by.

Cap was tired, bone tired, but satisfied. He and Master Mahoon had spent the last four weeks studying the crwth and experimenting to determine the music that would unlock its secrets. In the end, it had taken a combination of magical and musical theory to do it. Master Mahoon was pleased to have the pages of notes and equations linking the two. Cap was just glad to have the song he needed.

Of course, now he had a problem. Now he could use the crwth as a treasure compass, and he didn't much like what it told him, for it pointed into the heart of the Near Empire on the northern hemisphere of Venus. An empire of the Scro -- highly evolved orcs with no love of outsiders. Cap figured he had about as much chance of getting in and out of there safely as a bottle of free wine had of surviving a university party. So what use was the crwth to him?

Cap shrugged. Well, it was still a good instrument. And Mahoon had told him not to worry, telling Cap that fate had led him to the crwth, and fate would surely give him a way to use it. It seemed awfully mystical to Cap, but Venus wasn't Aearth, and they looked at chance and fate differently here. It the mean time, he meant to take a bit of a break.

"Hey, a spelljammer!" someone behind him yelled. Cap looked up. Spelljammers had been vanishingly rare in Pahara since the Scro had put up the barrier. Whatever the barrier was, any spelljammer lost control of its helm upon entering Venus' atmosphere. Cap remembered the sickening plunge of the ship that had taken him from Green Luna when it had started to descend and the helm had cut off. If the ship's experimental alchemical engine hadn't started in time … Cap shuddered.

So Cap watched the descending spelljammer curiously. Was it? Yes, it was a vipership, painted black with blood-red sails. Cap frowned. The vipership looked awfully familiar. It couldn't be the ship he thought it looked like, not here, not now, could it?

Several of the people on the wall started yelling and whistling. The man next to Cap on the wall took off his hat and faced the crowd. "Three cheers for Captain Blacky Van der Decken and the _Stormbreaker_, who's been giving those bloody Scro bastards what for!" The crowd cheered with great enthusiasm, and continued cheering as the _Stormbreaker_ descended into the harbor.

Cap stared at the ship. He did _not_ believe in fate. He absolutely refused to believe in fate. Even when fate stared him in the eyes. Or maybe particularly when it did.

Even moving as fast as he could, it took Cap almost an hour to make his way from the wall to where the _Stormbreaker_ had docked. And when he got there, he had to spend an extra ten minutes pushing through the crowd of curious on-lookers before he actually reached the ship.

When he finally pushed through to a clear spot, he found a grim-looking half-ogre wielding a huge cutlass frowning down at him. However, the frown quickly turned into a huge smile. "Cap! Haven't seen you in a dog's age -- have you come to sign up?"

Cap laughed and shook his head. "No, not yet, but I might have a bit of business that up your gang's alley -- is the Captain about?"

The half-ogre jerked one finger over his shoulder at where a crowd of viscous-looking cutthroats was loading an armored wagon. "She and Mister Red are there, wrangling with the sorcerer the Band of Pahara sent down to pick up the loot. She might not be in the best mood at the moment -- you know how she hates arguing with people she can't afford to kill!"

Cap rolled his eyes and slapped the half-ogre on the shoulder. "Now, Naf, I know you're making _that_ up -- I've never seen her kill anyone for arguing with her -- otherwise half of you would be dead by now."

Naf grinned. "Ah, but she likes _us_."

Cap shook his head and sauntered over to where a tall, pale woman in black, and an even taller half-orc in red were arguing with a man in a most amazing robe with swirls of every color imaginable (and some probably only imaginable with the aid of drugs).

The woman was giving the robed man a truly frightening glare from her black eyes, and waved a sheet of parchment in his face. "I'm not releasing my loot until you sign and seal my receipt of goods handed over, you prevaricating bureaucratic peacock!"

The robed man met her eyes placidly, with an expression full of good will. "My dear Captain! I have no objection to signing your receipt. However, that document also contains your appraisals of what your 'loot' is worth, and _that_ I am not authorized to sign!"

Cap cleared his throat. All three of those arguing turned to face him. The two privateers glared at him, but after a moment their expressions softened slightly. The bank sorcerer gave him a look of bland curiosity. "Excuse me, but I couldn't help but overhear your, ah, disagreement. May I perhaps make a suggestion?"

Everyone nodded. Cap gently took the document from the Captain's hand and gave it a quick once-over. He looked up into three faces, two frowning and one bland. "It seems to me that the solution here would be for the bank's representative to sign the receipt, but to also add and initial a note that the signature applied to goods received only, and does not apply to their valuations contained in the document. The Captain should sign under the same conditions, and I will sign as a witness."

The bank's sorcerer examined Cap coolly. "That sounds acceptable; but forgive me -- who might you be?"

Cap pulled off his hat and bowed low. "I am Capability Thunder-Smith, currently of the Great Luna University's Institute for Universal Cartography, Ethnology and the Natural Sciences, and a member of the University's Bardic College."

The bank sorcerer smiled a very slight smile. "Ah yes. You should make a splendid witness. Now, where did I put my pen?"

A pen was found, and the receipt was signed (with amendments), and the bank's sorcerer and armored wagon (and its guards) all left.

As soon as wagon had vanished out of sight into the crowd, Cap bent his head next to the Captain's and whispered, "Captain, I have a matter I'd like to discuss with you privately."

The Captain whispered back, smiling mischievously, "What sort of private, lover boy?"

Cap moved his lips even closer to her ear. "_Treasure _private."

The Captain's smile widened. She made a quick sign of her hand to Mister Red, then slipped an arm around Cap's waist, pulling him close, giving him a very warm kiss. "Play along." She whispered.

Cap had no trouble following that order. After a minute or two of passionate kissing, the Captain stepped back, then led Cap by the hand up the gangplank and across the deck to her cabin.

Once the door was closed, the Captain placed a hand on either of Cap's shoulders and stared into his eyes. "You're looking good, Capability, good enough to eat! So what have you been doing with yourself these days?"

Cap put his hands on her waist. "Oh, an occasional stint with the University's Grand Survey, a bit of hunting dangerous cultists, a bit of wandering. What about you, Blackie? You're looking as fine as usual."

She smiled and moved closer to him. "Oh, just being an honest woman and plying my honest trade, making an honest gold piece here and there."

Cap had almost forgotten that he and Blackie Van der Decken were almost exactly the same height, but looking directly into her eyes and with her lips almost touching his lips, it was very obvious. If he were to lean forward even the tiniest amount, they'd -"

The knock on the door echoed like thunder in the confined space of the _Stormbreaker_'s Captain's quarters. Cap involuntarily jumped back, feeling irrationally like he was suddenly a teenager again, and his father had walked in on him and the neighbor's daughter in the laundry room.

The Captain laughed, and opened the door, letting the six-foot-and-a-half half-orc into the cabin. "Get the out the good rum, Mister Red -- Capability here has something to tell us about treasure, or so he says."

Mister Red went to a chest by the Captain's bed and pulled out a black glass bottle and three chipped crystal tumblers. He set the tumblers down on the table, and opened the bottle carefully, almost reverently. It was Paharan Black Rum, aged for over twenty years in barrels made of rare woods from the jungles of Alph, and almost impossible to get a hold of without impressive political connections.

The Captain raised her tumbler high. "A toast! A toast to all that makes life worth living! A toast to love, to treasure, to fine ships, to true friends and dire battle! A toast to living each day like it was your last! A toast to life lived to the full!"

They each took a sip of their rum (not even a pirate would knowingly gulp Paharan Black). It went down the throat like silken fire, and was soon gone.

The three of them sprawled around the table and Mister Red refilled their glasses. The Captain leaned forward on her elbows, staring at Cap. "So, me fine buck, you were saying something about treasure?"

In answer, Cap pulled his crwth's case off of his back, and pulled it out.

The Captain raised an eyebrow. "That's a fine piece of wood there, even if a bit old-fashioned, but I doubt it'd bring more than a few hundred gold. So what about the treasure?"

Cap smiled, and swung the instrument into playing position. "Wait."

Cap began to play the odd little tune that he and Master Muldoon had figured out. As he launched into the main theme, he plucked the drone string and suddenly, cool blue light lit the cabin as a ghostly arrow formed in the air over the crwth. The arrow swung around until it pointed almost due north, and stopped. There it hung, even after Cap's fingers dropped off of the strings.

Captain Van der Decken stood and stared at the arrow, then her eyes darted to meet Cap's. "By the triply damned gods of the dead, that's a treasure compass!"

Cap smiled. "It certainly is."

The Captain licked her lips. "Where does it lead ... and to what?"

Cap grimaced. "As for your second question, I haven't the foggiest idea."

The Captain cocked her head a smiled tightly at Cap. "But I bet you know the answer to the first question, don't you my fine lad? You just don't like it. But you can tell old friend Blackie, can't you?"

Cap nodded and sighed. "It points to the heart of the Near Empire -- about fifty miles outside their capital of Gnazkhibad. In the middle of one of the largest and best disciplined armies in the sphere. Only a madman would think of looking for treasure _there_!"

The Captain smiled widely. "Good thing you know a whole shipload of madmen then. I wonder what that arrow is pointing at, though."

Mister Red looked thoughtful. "A treasure compass is an expensive and difficult thing to craft -- someone must have thought whatever it is pretty important."

The Captain's eyes lit up. "And what's that important in this life? More likely than not, it's something very valuable. And hidden -- if you weren't going to hide it, you wouldn't need the treasure compass. So something hidden and valuable, in one of the most dangerous areas in the sphere. Well, Capability me lad, you've come to right place. Looting Scro airships is both fun and profitable, but it gets old quickly. Why don't we go take a look at your little mystery for a change of pace? Since I'm the one with the ship, I'd say that a 90/10 cut seems about fair, assuming you share the risk and come along yourself."

Cap shook his head. "Oh, of course I'll come along. Why not, I haven't come serious close to dying for weeks!"

The Captain's smile widened. "We can make it worth your while, one way or another I'm sure. Mister Red! Give the boys and girls two days to play, then I want to be completely ready to fly by the end of the week."

Mister Red nodded, and finished off his tumbler of Paharan Black, then heaved himself to his feat. "I'd better get about my business, then. Captain. We can discuss provisioning tomorrow morning."

The Captain slid one hand over onto Cap's shoulder. "Not too early."

Mister Red smiled and headed out the door, closing it carefully behind him.

Cap turned to find the Captain's face only inches from his. "Why don't you put that fiddle down and let me know exactly how much you missed me, Capability?"

And so he did.

8


	3. The Fall of the Good Ship Stormbreaker

**Chapter 3**

The _Stormbreaker_ hung calmly in space, Venus a brilliant blue and green curved wall filling the sky above her mast. Neither the Captain nor the crew, experienced spacers all, felt any discomfort at hanging "upside-down" over the planet. Cap was at least experienced enough not to show any discomfort either, if not quite experienced enough not to feel any.

Cap looked up at the world above him. "So, what are we going to do about the barrier?"

The Captain smiled and slid her arm through Cap's. "You haven't seen the helm room since your last trip, have you? That should explain it."

They strolled to the front of the ship, and climbed down a hatch situated between the bow catapult platform and amidships ballista, and into the helm room. As always the great chair -- elaborately carved out of ancient oak and worked with quartz and silver -- that served as the _Stormbreaker_'s spelljamming helm stood in the center of the room. And as usual, one of the many spellcasters in the crew sat in it, eyes closed, powering and guiding the ship.

What was not usual were the awkward-looking, rune-carved, massive iron boxes that stood in each corner of the room. Each had a heavily built iron door on one side, and in front of each were baskets full of fist-sized, irregular yellow crystals streaked with black.

Cap whirled to face the Captain. "Spelljamming furnaces? How in Awawn's name did you come up with _four_ of them? And are those chunks of the Balestar you have in those baskets? _What_ have you been doing?"

The Captain smiled seraphically, and intertwined her fingers. "Oh, don't be silly, Capability, we haven't taken service with The Uncreated. For one thing, mad gods are bad for business. And for another, it's terribly profitable hunting its ships. Just about every government in space offers a bounty! And there's all the interesting loot, like what you see here."

Cap blinked in shock. "The Stormbreaker captured four of the Balestar's spelljammers by itself? Aren't they supposed to be swarming with warlocks and mind slaves?"

The Captain laughed. "Six actually, but the other two furnaces we sold. And the warlocks they put on their standard patrol ships aren't all that tough. As for mind slaves -- once you've shattered their crystals, well suddenly they're allies. I won't say it was easy, but for a woman of my talents and with a crew like the _Stormbreaker_'s it was simply business as usual. The hardest part was finding the many-damned thing."

Cap shook his head in amazement. "Well, I suppose you'll use the furnaces once the shield shuts down the helm?"

The Captain waved a hand negligently. "Well, we'll actually go in under power from one of the furnaces and with the helm shut down -- that'll avoid helm shock for helmsman. When the barrier shuts down the furnace, we'll start one of the other furnaces. If it doesn't work we'll try the next one, and then the next one, and finally the helm. The odds are very high we'll get one of them started before we crash into the surface!" She favored Cap with a gleeful smile.

Cap winced at the image of the _Stormbreaker_ falling to the surface from orbit. "So when do we go?"

The Captain's smile widened. "That eager to go, are you? Well, there's no time like the present!"

Captain Van der Decken practically sprang to the ladder and swarmed up on deck, with Cap close behind her. The Captain cupped her hands in front of her mouth, bellowing, "OK you deck apes, strike the sails and topmast into the hold! Rig ship for drop! Duty mage! Prepare for invisible flight!"

In what seemed like no time, the top mast had been removed and placed down in the cargo hold along with the sails, the catapults and ballistae had been tightly roped in place and covered with shields of sailcloth, and any and all 'loose' objects had been tied down with more rope (including the lookouts), and the majority of the crew below decks in their hammocks.

Not Blackie Van der Decken, of course. She and Cap were on the deck by the hatch into the helm chamber, loosely secured with rope harnesses. At the bottom of the hatch waited the cabin boy, ready to relay any command of the Captain's to the furnace operators.

The cabin boy peered up, looking slightly nervous; Cap did not blame him in the least. "Captain? Mistress Spike wishes inform you that the helm is free, and the ship is now flying on the number one furnace."

The Captain clapped her hands together, looking gleeful. "Excellent! Tell Mistress Spike to bring the ship around and initiate descent. And tell the Ryan to activate invisibility. We're going in, lads and lasses! It's death or glory now!"

Venus swung around above until it disappeared over one side of the ship, leaving a view of only stars. The ship _faded_ somewhat when the invisibility spell took effect, but remained mostly visible to those aboard her.

The descent began gradually enough, when suddenly, there was a flare of magic and St. Elmo's fire from the helm room and the top of the abbreviated mast, and the ship began to plunge.

If it had fallen on an even keel, it wouldn't have been so bad, but without a helm the _Stormbreaker _rocked violently both fore and aft and from side to side. If weren't for their rope harnesses, both the bard and the Captain would have been hurled over the side. Cap held on to the ropes grimly, muttering prayers to Bran under his breath. The Captain however, was laughing and whooping, her voice audible even over the groans of the ship and the scream of the thin air. "Have you ever had such a ride, Capability? Have you ever? It'll take us about eight minutes to fall to earth -- care to take a bet how many tries it'll take before we get a helm going?"

Cap looked at her in amazement as he clung to his harness for dear life, but then his bardic training kicked in. "It's bad style to bet against the Captain in matters pertaining to running the ship, so I'll pass this time."

The Captain grinned at him. She has amazingly enough keeping her feet with only one arm hooked through her harness. "Spoilsport! Well, it's time for the first try."

She waved a hand to the cabin boy roped to the foot of the ladder. He signaled someone further into the helm room. The ship's fall slowed and the rocking decreased, but after a few seconds there was another burst of magic and light, and the ship began fall anew."

The Captain laughed again. "You should have bet against me, Capability, because I would have bet on the first try! But there's plenty of time to try again."

Once again she signaled the cabin boy, and once again the ship slowed and stabilized. This time it lasted for a good twenty seconds before there was the tell-tale burst of light and magic and ship resumed its fall."

The Captain looked thoughtful, but not upset as the ship pitched wildly beneath her feet. "Well, only one more furnace left to try, and then it's down to the helm. Are you sure you don't want to place a little bet? It needn't be for money."

Cap tried to match her calm. After a moment's thought he whispered an offer in her ear (or as much of a whisper that would carry over the rush of the air and creaking and groaning of the ship).

The Captain smiled broadly. "Done!" And she signaled the cabin boy for the third time.

This time the ship slowed and steadied until it finally came to a stop, hovering in cool damp of Venus' upper airs. After it held steady for a couple of minutes, the Captain slipped out of her harness and smiled at Cap. "You have won your bet, sir. You can collect your winnings tonight, the gods willing. "

She turned and faced down the hatch, bellowing: "Mister Red, roust the men out of their hammocks and rig ship for normal flying. We have treasure to find!"


	4. The Ghostyards

**Chapter 4**

The pentagonal chamber was dim, cool and dry. Its walls were of dressed stone and there was no visible door. The only light came from the multicolored glowing lines etched on the floor, walls and ceiling. Standing at each corner of the room was a humanoid being, dressed in red robes and holding a crystalline sphere on which their concentration was focused. The beings were not human, looking rather like orcs, except taller and more intelligent, with higher foreheads and better posture. Scro.

One of the Scro war priests raised his head and spoke to thin air, "The shield has been breached in the northern hemisphere, eastern quadrant. Just one ship penetrated, most likely powered by a furnace or several furnaces. "

There was a long moment of silence, and another voice answered out of thin air, "It's those pirates again, I expect. Very well, maintain watch and increase magneto-etheric force to sufficient levels to support double the number of patrol ships. Also, send word to Makkakahn base to hold all available spelljammers ready for immediate launch."

The war priest who had spoken bowed. "It shall be as you command, General."

The _Stormbreaker_ flew slowly through the Venusian night, invisible and nearly silent. On her deck, the Captain and the First Officer gathered around a bard, who was holding a crwth in his arms. Above the instrument hovered a blue-glowing arrow. It pointed ahead and slightly down. If you were to look where it pointed, you would see two glowing patches in the night. One glowed with the yellow-white of magically generated light: the Scro capital city of Gnazkhibad. The other was an odd, sickly greenish glow some miles from the city. Careful examination of the arrow would show that it was at this second glow at which it pointed.

Cap stared at the green-glowing patch glumly. "Is that what I think it is?"

The Captain nodded, looking grim. "That's the Ghostyards for sure."

Mister Red looked puzzled. "The Ghostyards, what are those?"

Cap sighed slightly. "You know how the Near Empire got started, don't you? How the southern elves, the Oerth, crossed the flame barrier that divides Venus in half in their flying ships, and taught all their arts to scro tribes of Northern Venus, including how to build spelljammers? Who promptly used them to raid Aearth for slaves and booty?"

Mister Red nodded slightly. "I've heard a bit about it in Pahara."

Cap looked pensively at the greenish blot as ship approached it. "Well, the elves of course, being elves, were horrified by this behavior, and attempted to take back or destroy all of their gifts. The scro had built a huge shipyard outside of Gnazkhibad -- practically a city in itself, and had guarded it with everything they had learned from the elves. The elves couldn't destroy it by direct attack, but they couldn't let the scro keep their fleet of spelljammers either, so they called up a god of wrath, and him curse the place. Ever since then it has been an accursed place, and death to enter."

Mister Red blinked. "And _that's_ where the treasure is buried?"

Cap sighed. "So it seems."

Mister Red looked over at the Captain. "This is going to be hard, isn't it?"

The Captain smiled a tight little smile. "We've done hard before, and most of us are still alive."

Mister Red nodded slowly. "True enough, Captain, true enough."

They soon reached the green-glowing area. The _Stormbreaker_ slowed and carefully hovered over an area full of stunted and oddly-twisted trees near the glowing area. The Ghostyards themself seemed to be full of a thick fog, hiding mostly whatever was within, only occasionally allowing a glimpse of ruined stone buildings.

The ship's cook -- who, strangely enough, also happened to be a cleric of Pelor -- came up on deck and stood next to the Captain, and examined the green glow through narrowed eyes.

The Captain looked the cook curiously. "What do you think it is, Margaritte?"

The cook frowned slightly. "It's a negative energy field of some sort. I suspect a couple of minutes in it without protection, and you'd be dead -- or worse. Possibly much worse."

The Captain frowned. "We have protection, don't we?"

The cook nodded. "We have four amulets of _Death Ward_, which should do the trick."

The Captain nodded once and turned to her first officer. "Mister Red! I, our fine bard, Cook and Naf will enter the yards -- you will be in command in my absence. If you find it necessary to move to avoid scro patrols, we will check back here every twenty-four hours, and we will leave the usual signs. Clear?"

The big half-orc was clearly not happy with this idea, but he also clearly knew better than to argue. "Aye-aye, Captain."

The Captain turned to regard Cap and the cook. "The two of you suit up -- we'll assemble on the quarterdeck in half an hour."

Since Cap was staying with the Captain, he simply followed her back to her cabin. She went right to her equipment chest, and dumped the contents on the table.

Cap looked at her quizzically. "Wouldn't it be easier to use the bed for that?"

The Captain shook her head, and began to unbutton her shirt. "I have a better use for it."

Cap raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The Captain slid out of her shirt and began to unbutton her breeches. "As do you. It won't take either of us more than ten minutes to get ready, after all."

Cap began to pull his shirt off. "I see."

As it happened, it only took them five minutes to get ready, and they were still the last to reach the quarterdeck.

All of them were in their armor (chain for Cap, the cook and the Captain, breastplate and greaves for Naf) and bore their weapons, and Cap carried the crwth as well. The cook handed out the amulets and made sure each of them had them securely fastened around their necks.

They lowered themselves by rope from the _Stormbreaker_ (Cap almost managing to fall, to the quiet amusement of the crew), then walked up the edge of the green glow. They paused while the cook blessed and prayed over them.

The cook looked at the Captain, a very serious expression on her face. "I don't like the look of the green fog, Blackie. Pure negative energy would be glowing _black_, not sickly green. I think the amulets will protect us, but just to be on the safe side it might be best if we stayed in there no longer than an hour."

The Captain nodded gravely, and pulled an elaborate gold pocket watch out of a pouch. "It's just before the stroke of midnight -- my lucky time, and moment of my birth! We'll do our best to be out by one, then. Naf! Take lead, I'll take rearguard, Capability, you take left flank, Margaritte, take right flank. Move out!"

Close up the yellowish-green fog looked oily and slimy some how, but it rolled away from them (or their amulets) when they approached. But it still made it hard to see very far.

It was deathly quiet inside the fog -- even the wind did not blow. As they moved inward, following the glowing blue arrow hanging over the crwth, they passed a number of stone buildings. All were in an advanced state of ruin. There was no sign of any life: no animals, no plants, not even mold or fungus. The ground beneath their feat was an odd mix of mud and stone, but even the mud lacked its proper smell. Everything seemed completely sterile.

Soon they came to the actual shipyard. There was cradle after cradle containing smashed spelljammers. However, even though the cradles and the broken ships were made of wood, and thoroughly soaked, there was no sign of decay. The wood could have been freshly broken, except there was no smell, no smell at all.

Cap looked at the broken ships curiously. "I wonder what happened to their helms."

The Captain laughed. "The elves took them, of course. Even with the curse here to 'protect' them, leaving them here would have been too much of a risk -- after all, the scro have clerics who can cast _Death Ward_, too."

Cap nodded. "That makes sense." Then he realized something else was missing. "Why aren't there any bodies here? Wouldn't this field have killed anyone present?"

The cook spoke up. "No, it would have converted them into undead -- wraiths to be exact."

Cap looked around nervously. "Are there hoards of wraiths lurking around here somewhere?"

The Captain shrugged. "From what I've read, a great fear fell upon the scro in the shipyards, and they fled for their lives before the curse came down. Mind you, I don't know if all of them made it out. If some didn't, it might explain why no one lives anywhere near here. So keep alert!"

The moved on, following the arrow above the crwth deeper and deeper in the yards. Ahead, a small castle or large tower loomed out of the mists. It has once boasted a formidable gate of rune-etched steel, but it had been shattered and lay in rusted pieces on the ground.

The Captain raised her eyebrows in surprise. "According to my charts, this was the building in which they stored the helms before installing them in the ships. I would have thought the elves would have found and taken or destroyed every possible thing of value in this place."

Cap looked at the arrow. It pointed straight through the gates and down slightly. "Well, that's where the treasure compass says to go."

The Captain muttered a quick spell, and pulled out her sword. "Then, that's where we're going."

The courtyard of the tower was rough with rusty metal fragments and shattered stones. The tower, its doors completely gone, loomed ahead in the glowing fog. When they reached the door, Naf pulled out his two-handed sword, which began to glow a surprisingly comforting pure white. The fog did not seem to like the sword's glow, and retreated from the half-ogre in oily billows.

Naf moved slowly up the stairs. The Captain gestured Cap back to the rearguard position, and she and the cook moved up behind them. The only sounds were their breathing and their feet on the stone, the only scents stone, water and rust. Naf stepped into the doorway, looked around and shook his head slightly, and spoke, "I know you're there. I can feel you waiting, watching. Why don't you come out and play? Or are you cowardly as well as dead?"

That's when the scro wraiths erupted out of the ground and walls.

Cap practically leapt into the air as immaterial fingers reached out of the mud and stones for his feet. But before any of them could touch him, the cook's strong voice boomed out: "In Pelor's name, be gone, things of evil! The sun banishes you! The earth rejects you! The Lord of the Sky bids you return to the underworld that spawned you! Go!" And the fingers reaching for him sunk back into the ground.

The wraiths backed off, but more and more of them boiled out of the tower. They seemed unwilling to approach too closely, but they began to fill the courtyard and the 'air' above. Cap looked nervously at the Captain, who was smiling a tight, hard smile that was only slightly less scary than the wraiths. She murmured, "A target rich environment; I like that."

Suddenly fire boomed out on both sides as a _Fireball_ went off to the left and a _Flame Strike_ came down to the right. The wraiths swarmed forward, but an invisible wall held them back, and more fire exploded among the fog. Then Naf, gentle, strong Naf, leapt forward, his great sword glowing an eye-hurting white, screaming a battle cry in a grating, unknown language, his sword harvesting wraiths like a scythe harvesting wheat. The cook, her mace glowing like the sun joined them, while the Captain cast fire spells to either side with that frightening smile still on her face.

Cap stood in the middle, crwth in one hand, rapier in the other, looking for a clear target in the maelstrom of fire and magic, but there were no wraiths within reach. None of them made it with reach either, all of them being destroyed in less than half a minute, except for a few that fled. Silence descended, and he sheathed his sword.

The Captain rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Ah, nothing like a brisk workout to get the blood flowing, eh, Capability?"

Cap looked at her ruefully. "I wouldn't know, having just been a spectator for the whole business."

The Captain patted him on the shoulder. "I prefer to think of you as the reserve, myself."

They formed back up and entered the tower. No wraiths appeared this time. The inside was damp, dimly lit by the glowing fog, and smelt only of wet stone. The décor was limited, martial and practical -- in other words, typical scro work. They followed the crwth's arrow to the central staircase and headed down toward the basement. Someone had been there long before them, and had smashed every door to flinders. They began to encounter corpses of scro as well, very odd corpses. They looked almost fresh, but leached of color. Even the damp had not touched them.

When they reached the bottom of stairs, the arrow continued to point down, not at the corridor off to the side as expected. Cap frowned in puzzlement, while the other three stared at him expectantly. Cap walked around the base of the staircase, watching the arrow. It continued to point at the floor, just past where the stairs ended. He stood in thought for a long moment. No one disturbed him. Then he swung the crwth into position, and began to play the tune that activated the treasure compass.

There was a long pause, then the floor just past the end of the staircase silently vanished away, showing a continuation of the staircase downward. They headed down, with Naf in the lead.

This time the staircase ended in a small room containing only a rune-covered iron box. The Captain stepped forward to examine it carefully, frowned, then shook her head. "Why would anyone go through the effort of creating a treasure compass for a spelljamming furnace? Yes, they're valuable, but not _that_ valuable."

Naf was examining the furnace with a frown on his face. "It doesn't look quite right to me, Cap'n. The door's been welded shut -- how are you supposed to feed the magic items into it?"

The Captain's eyes narrowed suddenly and her smile returned. "Good spot, Naf. This might be worthwhile after all. Let's get it back to the ship and see."

Naf picked the furnace up without any seeming effort, holding it comfortably under one arm. Cap rather doubted he could have picked it up at all.

They headed back to the where they had left the _Stormbreaker_, keeping a sharp eye out for the wraiths, but their trip was uneventful. Uneventful, that is, except for the ship's complete absence when they got there.


End file.
